


A Touch of Misery

by aripheese



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Caught, F/M, Masturbation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Shame, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aripheese/pseuds/aripheese
Summary: Dimileth oneshot!  All of this agony over two smiles.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 56





	A Touch of Misery

It had taken her six moons, but she had smiled.

Moreover, she had done it again when he asked her to smile at him.

Dimitri shuddered as he lay beneath his blankets, as for the first time in four years, he remained awake not because the apparitions were punishing him for not immediately slaking their vindications, but because his body was aflame.

Was he sweating? “How untoward,” he groused quietly, peeling away the cotton fabric of his covers where they stuck to his skin. “I despise being hot.” He cast them toward the wall to his right, exposing how many scars spangled him and his complete nudity. He had the physiognomy of a warrior, wire-muscled through the whole of his frame.

“Vile,” he spat softly after sitting up, a forlorn grimace tightening his jaw. Lust coiled rampantly through his abdomen and had bloated the spire of flesh between his legs to full-mast. He wanted her, already. It was only the Horsebow Moon of 1180, and yet he craved Byleth’s body with equal barbarity as he had revenge. “Ngah. You’re repulsive for having these feelings. How might you even dare to have them? She is only your --” 

He cradled his mouth in his right palm, and the knitting of his fair eyebrows grew more severe as his sexual depravity became tantamount to his boorish tendencies toward violence. The teachings of Seiros sanctioned all forms of love, but Dimitri only thought of his carnal appetites as madness.

Madness, as his sex pulsed and twitched with his basest needs. Shame, as his azure eyes cracked open to peer at the bead of pre-ejaculate collecting at his very tip, and the desire to self-flagellate surfaced as he directed his attention upward, at the poltergeist of his reproachful late father. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked through the hand over his mouth, his voice breaking, hardly able to maintain his gaze on those wrathful eyes.

He was never reprieved from those voices of the fallen, not even in his dreams. Crushing his eyelids shut, he growled to will that ghostly presence away, steeped heavily in his sorrows. Eventually, he relinquished hold of his mouth and dropped both hands to grip onto the edge of his bed, knuckles white with his excessive strength. His chest heaved with his laborious, remorseful breathing; if Felix or Sylvain were awake in their neighboring dormitories, then surely, they would hear him if he deigned to touch himself. 

“I am ever-portraying the boar, like he says. A reprehensible beast like me has no place in polite society, let alone propped up as the crown-prince of a nation. I am not even here for Garreg Mach’s intended purpose. I’m here to kill, for you …and now, for her. I would kill for her. I would do anything to protect her. Anything.”

What an insistent erection he had, the evidence of his attraction to her, colored indigo under midnight and Horsebow’s silver. It bore the weight of his indignity, and it ached. “I haven’t done this before. Why would I start now? Because she smiled? I am merely disgracing her with my cruel thoughts of wanting her. But she chose Faerghus, had she not? She took a single look at me and chose me, chose Faerghus over the Empire and the Alliance…

“Hnn’ah. She chose me. She chose --”

Dominant right hand rose from its vicegrip on his mattress and stole into his lap, but he hesitated just shy of himself. 

“Will I -- be able to behave myself around her if I do this? What will stop me from becoming feral and taking her right there on the ground? In the classroom? On her desk? Oh, this realization … it will haunt me just as readily as the dead.” Dimitri’s voice was fraught with dejected grief, but his imagination had rendered to him all lurid images aforementioned. Byleth’s nubile but scarred body was as nude as his, swathed in a sheer layer of her perspiration, her shapely legs akimbo as she lay in wait for him on her back. The swell of her breasts was magnificent, he envisioned, sizable enough that their excess may bulge through the gaps of his fingers. 

“Hmmf. Perhaps its very forbidden nature is what makes it so covetous, but why am I driven to touch myself like this? I … I haven’t even a future to promise to her.”

Desperate for a concrete answer though he was, he summoned that hand into his lap again, this time successfully wrapping it around his swollen sex. His hips involuntarily jerked into his damp grip, quivering. “Hmngh. Sweet Sothis, but why does this feel so tremendously good if I am not to have these feelings? Hmph. Yet another question for which there’s no answer.”

His cock pulsed against his hand, virulent and bestial, as he traveled down his mental map of Byleth’s body. Her exposed navel, perfectly cute and athletically flat, came to mind, and his thin lips parted as he thought about laving over it on a southward trajectory, breathing out a relished sigh. Yes, he fantasized about his tongue leaving a trail of saliva in its wake, as he continued to descend, only lifting away to rip off those perfect hotpants and whatever lay beneath them. The object of his ravenous wiles, the pink nexus between her --

“No.” It was a low, perilous growl that seethed out of him, and he wrenched his hand away from the tenuous length upon which it had grasped, before he looked up -- and saw her.

It was as if all of Fódlan had come screeching to a halt. His blighted, ice-blue eyes became as wide as hers, as he flushed abruptly with his shameful mortification, scrambling to get the coverlet at the foot of his bed into his lap immediately. “Professor! What!? What are -- what are you doing here at this hour?! Close my doors!”

He had likely alerted the entire noble floor of her arrival there, as well as a reason to conjecture he was indecent and she had seen him in a state of indecency. Oh Goddess, please strike him down where he sat, please; he hadn’t earned the privilege of driving such a grave vehicle of penitence, had he!? 

Byleth, of course, had done as directed, queerly level-headed in spite of the situation’s stark absurdity, but she was remarkably more ginger in her movements than normal. After his wooden double-doors clicked into place, she turned around, a noticeably deathly pall over her face. There were a number of scrolls bunched into her right hand. Without a word, she began to approach him, and at that point, Dimitri had begun to pray most reverently to Sothis against his demise that seemed to be soon-coming. 

“You didn’t participate in tonight’s battle, Dimitri, so I prepared an account of it as well as a summary of everyone’s progress.” Damn that woman and her blank fluoride eyes! “I’d like you to go through them before next week’s Instruction period and speak with Flayn about your expectations as House Leader.” 

“Of -- of course, Professor.” His head was completely empty, and she was prettier than he had ever realized in this very moment; he was going to obsequiously follow every word she said and agree to it as if it were gospel. She tossed her rolled-up parchments onto his bed next to him, but he hadn’t the intellectual presence to look at anything but her.

“Dimitri?”

“Yes, Professor?”

“I’ll think more about ‘returning to the Kingdom’ with you. Good night.”

Within a few seconds, she vanished behind his doors again, and he listened to the receding sound of her heels against hardwood.

“But what … what does that mean?”


End file.
